


It's in the festive print

by icarusinflight



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-13
Updated: 2017-12-13
Packaged: 2019-02-14 05:08:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13000518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icarusinflight/pseuds/icarusinflight
Summary: They have an agreement in place.Not that sort of agreement.It's an agreement where they're each other's work spouses.





	It's in the festive print

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheyDraggedMeInNowIAintLeaving](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheyDraggedMeInNowIAintLeaving/gifts).



> Okay so every time I went to write this all I wanted to do was go and read TheyDraggedMeInNowIAintLeaving's fics and really I feel like they should be partially to blame for this taking me longer than it should have. Anyone who is reading this should definitely go check out their fics because they are ah-maz-ing.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this TheyDraggedMeInNowIAintLeaving :)

They have an agreement in place.

Not _that_ sort of agreement.

It's an agreement where they're each other's work spouses.

It started this year when Derek had started his job at the firm. He’d had to attend an event – something hosted by the company for a new location they’d designed. The event had been worrying him – until someone had mentioned partners were permitted. Derek had occasionally accompanied Stiles to his works events before – so it seemed only natural that he asked Stiles to be his plus one.

And then again the next time. And then for the Christmas in July party. For the celebration of the new contract. Derek’s enjoyed having Stiles as his plus one to all of the events.

Except lately it's felt like that line is blurring.

Having Stiles attend as his boyfriend – getting to enjoy a snippet of what it might be like to have a boyfriend – have Stiles as a boyfriend.

Derek hasn’t dated in a long time, and if Stiles has been he hasn’t told Derek about it. Derek thinks Stiles would if he were, but he doesn’t ask about these things. Derek usually lets Stiles dictate what he shares – rarely pushes when Stiles dodges or distracts from a subject. He only does that if it feels like he should. For the most part he respects Stiles’s privacy. Stiles does the same.

“My work Christmas party is 16th December, are you free then?”

Stiles reaches his hand around to his back jean pocket and pulls his phone out, unlocking and tapping the screen a few times. “Nope. I'm all yours.” He swipes and taps a few more times on the calendar app – most likely entering the event, before he locks his phone again, placing it down on the table.

“Thanks,” he answers.

The word don’t feel enough, like Derek needs to say something more to express how much the fact that Stiles would do this for him means to him. Stiles has even rescheduled events for him. It’s more than just attending the events. It also helps to have a buffer, that even outside of the event he has an excuse – _sorry I have a boyfriend_. He doesn’t mention any of that though; he’s told Stiles before how much it means to him, and he doesn’t want to make a big deal of it.

Instead he says, “Alissa was hoping you’d be coming.” Which is true.

Apart from the two of them, the only other person who knows of their charade is Alissa. He’d hit it off with her almost as soon as he’d started – he thinks that probably has more to do with Alissa than himself – but he’d complimented her tattoo and asked if it was a passenger pigeon and her face had lit up with happiness. Later he’d find out she was stoked about the compliment, and that he’d recognised it. Since then she’s been his ally, and the only person from work he socializes with by choice outside of office hours. Of course she and Stiles had hit it off instantly.

“Of course she is,” Stiles says a little smugly, “She just wants a rematch of the drink-off at Christmas in July.”

Derek _does not_ remind Stiles that last year’s drinking party ended up badly for the both of them. Alissa had definitely won. When the bar had opened up their party she’d convinced Stiles to move onto Tequila shots, and he’d had to wave them off before she had. Then Derek had herded them both into the taxi to his apartment, letting them sleep it off – Stiles sleeping in the spare room and Alissa on the couch – and cooking them breakfast with only minimal complaint.

He’s certainly not keen for a rematch of any sort.

“So where is the party this year?” Stiles asks, dragging Derek from his thoughts.

“I don’t know.” Derek replies, “It’s all very hush-hush. We’re meeting at work and then commuting to the venue.”

“I’ll find out.” Stiles tell him, and Derek has no doubt that he will.

 

* * *

 

Stiles turns up at his work one day – walking in with three cups of coffee in his hands – giving one to Derek before taking the other two with him when he sits on Alissa’s desk. 

Derek just shakes his head and returns to his own work.

Somehow by the time Stiles taps him on the shoulder and tells Derek to grab his wallet and join him for lunch he knows. Not that Derek is surprised in the least.

It’s at a place nearby – a local venue that’s actually set up mostly as a cafe. Derek’s company helped them set up the venue so they’re on good term with the place. It should be a great night.

When they’ve finished lunch Stiles walks him back to work – right up to his desk – and he drops a hug around his shoulders and a kiss on his cheek. Derek feels his face flush from the affection and too soon Stiles is pulling away.

 _It’s all for show,_ he reminds himself. He ignores the looks Alissa shoots at him from her desk.

 

* * *

 

 _“What are you wearing?”_ Stiles voice came through the phone – without a greeting of any sorts. 

Derek sighs into the phone, “Hi Stiles, I’m fine thanks for asking.” When he hears Stiles start to speak he continues on, “I’m wearing jeans, a henley, and a sweater.”

“Which henley? And which sweater? Are you wearing a Christmas Sweater or your thumb holes sweater?” Stiles' tumble out, the questions coming out so quick Derek can barely keep track of the words – let alone the questions. It was the thumb hole sweater and Derek opened his mouth to answer when Stiles continued, his voice changing tone with the words. “What are you wearing underneath your jeans and henley Derek?” he asks, his voice pitched low.

Derek’s mouth opened, but no words came out.

Thankfully Stiles continued on, “Just jokes – don’t answer that – I mean unless you want to. I actually called to ask what you were wearing to the Christmas party.”

Derek feels his face flush with embarrassment. “You didn’t say that.” He points out, before asking “Why?”

“So we can match!” Stiles says gleefully. He can hear the sounds of Stiles pacing through the phone – Stiles is never still when he’s on the phone – all movement and motion. Derek can see in his mind the way Stiles would have thrown his hand up at the words – can see the wide smile he’d have when he'd said them.

“Why?” Derek repeats.

“So we can match!” Stiles says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Like the words make any sense?

Derek feels like one of those dolls that you press to speak, repeating only a few certain phrases when he asks again, “Why?”

“Why not?” Stiles asks instead of answering.

“We never have before?” Derek points out. He’s confused by Stiles request. Derek’s not sure why Stiles would want to have them matching – this isn’t prom.

“Pshaw. First time for everything. Don’t even worry about it. I’ll sort something.” Stiles sounds amused – and Derek wonders if this is all some sort of joke to Stiles. He tries to think of matching outfits – on one end of the spectrum there’s the prom style matching jackets and ties. On the other end of the spectrum though he thinks of the horrible matching outfits people wear for Christmas pictures. He would not put that past Stiles. Better to avoid all together in Derek’s opinion. Besides– he thinks a s little sadly – it’s not like they’re actually dating, just fake-dating.

“I don't want to wear matching outfits.” He tells Stiles. But there's no response, and when he looks at his phone the call has already been disconnected.

* * *

 

They don’t get matching outfits. But Stiles does go out of his way to get them festive shirts. He gets Derek a [black button up](http://www.asos.com/au/asos/asos-christmas-stretch-slim-shirt-with-festive-print/prd/8341121?&channelref=product+search&affid=11148&ppcadref=869250211%7C43265854949%7Cpla-329113531660&gclid=CjwKCAiA07PRBRBJEiwAS20SIAEn_25_QQ_cPNPcQos6tW6uoljc5zpe-rEOS04SncD0uQ4zL8nf5xoCoqQQAvD_BwE&gclsrc=aw.ds) with candy canes and turkeys. Stiles himself wears a [wrapping paper themed button up](http://www.asos.com/au/asos/asos-tall-christmas-stretch-slim-shirt-with-festive-print/prd/8370448?&channelref=product+search&affid=11148&ppcadref=869250211%7C43265857429%7Cpla-330411643331&gclid=CjwKCAiA07PRBRBJEiwAS20SIBAsLy7NmhHCK_U8kZjIA0bDWmGHcrrFhzJxPt01vv_RmPYR92wtFhoCUO4QAvD_BwE&gclsrc=aw.ds) \- complete with Santa heads which are _almost_ creepy.

Derek admits that they look good in them – albeit a little begrudgingly. Alissa also seems impressed,  high fiving Stiles for his choices. Derek gets a backhanded slap to his bicep instead. 

“Looking good Hot-stuff,” she says with a smile. “Mind if a borrow your partner in crime for a mo?”

Derek shakes his head with a smile and watches as they race towards the cocktail bar set up by his organisation. He thinks that earlier in the year he might have minded or joined them. Not for the drinks but for the company. Now though he has other people he can talk to – he sees a group of people who work in distribution – people he’s made the effort to be friendly if not social with and approaches them.

He’s talking to Ashleigh about her new partner – she lights up when she talks about him and Derek finds himself enjoying the conversation, really genuinely enjoying himself – when he hears the recognisable sound of Stiles’ laughter ring out through the room. He looks up to see him still talking with Alissa, and someone from Research – he _thinks_ her name is Kim.

 _I don’t need him anymore_ he realises.

It’s not true – he does need Stiles. He really does. But he doesn’t need Stiles to be his fake partner and hold his hand at these events. They’re both having fun at the party on their own and Derek’s reached a point where he would have been fine on his own. _He didn’t need Stiles to come with him._

The thought chills him to his core.

“Have you told him?” Ashleigh’s voice drags him from his thoughts.

“What?” He asks, brow furrowing in confusion – as his gaze drags away from Stiles to look at Ashleigh.

“That you love him.”

He almost says ‘what’ again – her words taking a moment to process before he realises what she said and what she means.

“It’s not–” he starts, before cutting his words off. He doesn’t have an answer for her. _It’s not like that_ he could say, but that might give them away. He settles for shaking his head at her. Answering exactly the question, nothing more.

“That’s okay,” she says, giving him a smile. “You’ll tell him when you’re ready. To love.” She finishes by raising her glass to Derek.

Derek raises his own beer bottle – tapping it gently with her offered glass, “To love.” He agrees, his eyes drifting back to Stiles.

 

* * *

 

When the lights come on at midnight, Derek drags himself away from a conversation with Michael from invoicing to find Stiles. He’s on the corner couch, leaning heavily on its arm. Alissa’s eyes are glassy – meeting his own briefly before slipping sideways to a point past his eyes – she’s clearly not much better. Kim still looks mostly sober – looking up at Derek with a smile on her face.

Alissa waves off his offer of a lift and a place to sleep. He doesn’t miss the way she shuffles closer to Kim as he helps Stiles up. They wave goodbye as they head outside to get a taxi.

He slides into the backseat with Stiles when a taxi stops. They have only just taken off when Stiles flops sideways to rest his head on Derek’s lap. Derek drops his hand to Stiles’ hair to stroke through the short strands of his hair, and Stiles releases a contented sigh.

“I want to keep doing this.” Stiles mumbles, Derek’s hands still carding through his hair.

“Ride in Taxi’s lying down?” Derek asks amused. Drunk Stiles can ramble and sometimes the things he says can seem to be random. Derek is always more than happy to hear him out though and he keeps his fingers moving through Stiles’ hair as he waits for the explanation.

“No,” Stiles says, and his voice sounds annoyed. His eyes are still closed but Derek can see the frown on his face – until he turns his face away and to the side the side – burying his face in Derek’s thigh. He mumbles something into the muscles, breath warm and moist against his pants, but even Derek’s advanced hearing can’t pick up the words.

“What was that?”

Stiles huffs against his leg, turning again, this time to look up at Derek. His eyes are a little swollen from tiredness, and there’s a reddish tinge to them that’s most likely from the alcohol. “This. This going out... to things with you, having fun with you.” He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before exhaling. “Coming home... with you.” Stiles opens his eyes again – pinning Derek with his own, “Dating you.” He whispers the last words and Derek only just catches them – Derek thinks he might not have heard them if he didn’t have his eyes locked on Stiles, his entire focus narrowed down Stiles lying on his lap.

Derek’s breath feels like it’s just been punched out of him – he can’t think, can’t process the words for a moment. Before he can respond, Stiles’ eyes flutter shut and he continues.

“I wouldn’t be saying this if I was sober.”

Well fuck. It feels like Stiles just kicked him in the gut. Or maybe higher. Maybe in a place just to the left of his sternum. His hands fall still in Stiles’ hair.

“Okay,” his voice comes out steady, which surprises him. He feels like he might be falling apart at those words. It was better – so much better – back when he’d thought he just had no chance. Rather that than this – having the possibility flashed in front of him and then yanked away.

Stiles’ voice interrupts him once again, “I don’t mean them any less. I just… I wouldn’t be saying this without the liquid courage.”

He feels like his world is tilting – Stiles is still looking up at him and he can’t look away either. He needs to say something – anything – and he opens his mouth to say something but he just can’t.

So he acts instead.

He shifts his hand to rest underneath Stiles’ head – using it to lift his head up ducking his own head as he does so. He can feel Stiles’ breath against his lips – can smell the alcohol there. There’s beer and rum and he thinks maybe even vodka.

He keeps eye contact with Stiles until their lips are less than an inch from each other, which is when he finally looks away – eyes darting from Stiles’ eyes to his lips and back again. His eyes widen just a little at that and when Stiles licks his lips again Derek’s eyes return to them.

He tips his head down, lips brushing –

“We’re here.” Their taxi driver announces.

Stiles’ head jerks away from Derek, and Derek jolts upright in his seat.

Derek can see the taxi driver staring at him through the rear view mirror and he feels his face warm up beneath the gaze.

The driver tells them their fee and wordlessly Derek hands his card over for the charge. When the driver hands it back he mumbles his thanks, before opening the door to escape – Stiles sliding across the plastic seat to follow him out.

Stiles doesn’t say a word as Derek unlocks the apartment, letting them both inside. He doesn’t say a word as he enters the apartment and Derek closes and locks the door behind them. He doesn’t say a word as they both take off their shoes.

The silence is smothering Derek – even though he’s not usually someone who minds the quiet.

“Do you want a glass of water?” Derek asks, already moving towards the kitchen.

“Are we going to talk about that?” Stiles’ words stop his progress.

“Yeah.” Derek turns back to Stiles, and takes in the worry evident in Stiles’ expression – in his body language. He inhales deeply, before steeling himself to go all in. “Stiles yes I want to talk about it. I want to talk about it, and I want to kiss you, and I want to spend drunken taxi rides with you, and I want to date you.” He swallows, taking a large step forward to be closer to Stiles, “I want all of that Stiles. But not tonight. Tomorrow, when you’re sober.”

“Oh,” Stiles says, looking up at him his eyes rapidly blinking, before he seems to come to the realisation – the worry dropping from his features, replaced by a small somewhat lopsided smile. “Oh okay. That makes sense.”

Stiles takes another step forward, closer to Derek – close enough that if he were to reach out he could touch Derek, “But maybe I could have one more kiss now?” He asks, looking up at Derek.

“Just one,” Derek agrees, stepping forward – closing the last distance between them, he slides his arms up Stiles’ arms – before dropping a kiss against Stiles’ lips. Stiles pushes his body in against Derek and kisses him even harder. He flicks his tongue against Derek’s lips and for a second Derek considers parting his own lips – even starts to before he tastes the alcohol on Stiles’ lips. Instead he pulls away.

“Tomorrow,” he promises when Stiles whines.

“Fine.” Stiles says, his tone petulant, “Can I have a glass of water?”

Derek huffs a laugh, “Yes Stiles, you can have a glass of water.”

Derek moves to pull away but Stiles holds tight to him, “Can I have a toasted cheese sandwich tomorrow?”

“Yes, Stiles.” He says with a smile, shuffling them backwards towards the kitchen when Stiles keeps his hold tight.

Stiles drops his head to Derek’s chest, and the next words are whispered against Derek’s collarbone “Can I sleep with you tonight?”

“Just sleep.” Derek tells him. There’ll be time for more tomorrow. It’s late – or early now. Stiles is drunk, and Derek can feel the exhaustion in his body, his bed is calling to him, and the thought of sharing the bed with Stiles makes it seem even more appealing.

“Just sleep.” Stiles agrees.

“Okay.” Derek agrees, “water, sleep, and we’ll talk tomorrow.”

Tomorrow they’ll discuss this – what _this_ will be. Derek feels the smile on his face at that thought.

Tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. Comments and Kudos give me life.
> 
> i'll add my tumblr deets after the reveals


End file.
